


More Than I Thought Could Exist

by adeadlynightshade



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, also disregard the flash 1x09 and arrow 3x09, although this is in oliver's pov so barry's pining isn't as obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2876336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adeadlynightshade/pseuds/adeadlynightshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a silence that Oliver interprets as <em>Diggle is about to have one of those “go after him if you want him”</em> speeches and he really isn’t in the mood for it. “Look, Diggle, I’m fine, okay? I am perfectly content with Barry being my friend. He himself has stated that we’re good friends. That’s it. We’re <em>happy</em>, and that’s all that matters, right?”</p>
<p>Diggle flashes one of those <em>how dumb can you be</em> smiles he likes to do whenever Oliver lies through his teeth about his feelings and shakes his head. “Yeah,” he says, “But you and I know both know that you two can be <em>happier</em>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than I Thought Could Exist

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I just wanted to write something for these two relating to the holidays. This is unbetaed, so please excuse any mistakes. The title is taken from The xx's Angels, which is on my Barry/Oliver mix that I'll link to you at the end of this fic. Disregard the Flash 1x09 and 3x09, and you should be fine. I hope you enjoy, and please love these two like I do. :)

It’s not that Oliver _hates_ the holiday season. It’s more like he hates _this year’s_ holiday season. He tells himself that it’s his mother’s death, or Thea opting to spend the holidays with her father and not him. He convinces himself that spending the day before Christmas Eve with his friends, who have yet to abandon him, will make him feel better.

He was wrong.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to spend Christmas Eve here in the Arrow Cave, Oliver,” Diggle says, and since Oliver _was_ planning on spending Christmas Eve here in the Arrow Cave, he decides not to say anything. 

But there’s a MIT graduate (and a certified genius) in the room, and Felicity accurately interprets his silence as _thanks for putting a damper on my plans_. She lightly smacks him on the arm, and even though it doesn’t hurt, he still winces and clutches his arm. “Oliver!” she exclaims, “Can you go one day without brooding? I don’t even _celebrate_ Christmas and I’m excited!”

Oliver shrugs. “I guess I don’t have much to be excited about this year.”

Felicity does that cute and devious smile that she does when she hacks into the city grid or calculates a plan. “Well it’s a good thing you have _you-know-who_.”

Oliver frowns. “Who are you talking about?”

Felicity probably would’ve beat around the bush until New Years Day if it wasn’t for Roy, who answered, “Barry Allen!” in a sing-song voice.

They were all lucky that Oliver wasn’t drinking anything, because if he was, it would’ve been all over the three of them in the form of a spit take. But seriously, _Barry Allen?_

“What are you implying?” Oliver asks.

“Come on,” Diggle responds with a chuckle, “I can’t believe you’re even asking us that.”

“Honestly,” Felicity adds, “You smile at Barry like he’s the sun on a beautiful day, or something like that. You know what I mean.”

“I’ve only met him once and I can tell you like him,” Roy concludes. “He’s like your-”

“Woah woah woah, guys,” Oliver interrupts, standing because what the hell are they talking about? Sure, he was a good friend, but what Felicity, Roy and Diggle were implying was completely blown out of proportion. “Where are you getting all of this from?”

“From you, Oliver,” Felicity answers with a small smile, “And, from the fact that Barry called last night and begged us to come over to Central City and attend Iris’s Christmas Eve party. We have to wear ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“Oh God,” Oliver mutters, burying his head in his hands. “Honestly, no matter how happy you guys think Barry makes him, or how happy he actually does make me, I would much rather spend Christmas Eve alone than in a crowded living room in an ugly, itchy sweater with you guys constantly tracking my every move.”

“If we promise to leave you alone for the entire party, then you would you go?” Felicity begs, and Oliver sighs. He answers with a curt nod, and Felicity squeals. “Great! Because I ordered us the cutest sweaters. We’re going to be the best dressed people there, I know it.”

“It’s an ugly sweater party,” Diggle points out, “I don’t think anyone is going to win points in the fashion department.” 

They all laugh, and Oliver allows himself to relax. _It’s just me being my usual brooding, defencive self, he thinks, It can’t be that bad._  


 

The party started off terribly.

“Hey guys!” Barry greets at the door when they arrived. Then his cheeks turn bright red and he points out, “Oliver and I are matching.”

Oliver looks down at his own sweater-a hideous green color with red-nosed reindeers and ho-ho-hoing Santas and small white snowflakes-and then looks back up at Barry’s sweater-which is identical to his. His brain short circuits. He can only form thoughts of _Oh God, oh God, that could mean a thousand and one things, they’re never going to let me live this down, oh God-_

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it,” Felicity pipes up, saving Oliver from certain doom.

“Oh yeah, of course,” Barry agrees with an awkward smile, “Come on in. The eggnog is waiting!”

To Oliver’s surprise (and relief), there aren’t a ton of people in the house. He remembered everyone there from when he visited Central City before-Caitlin and Cisco and Iris and Detective West. Barry only introduces Iris’s boyfriend Eddie, although Oliver notices that he does it a bit grudgingly. Everyone is there except Dr. Wells, which Caitlin said was because the holidays weren’t his favorite time of year and that he wasn’t up to a social gathering.

Lucky Wells.

Once the greeting are over, Detective West exclaims, “Eggnog for everyone!” Everyone erupts in cheers, except for Oliver, of course, who opts to lean against the wall and watch everyone be happy. Maybe he’s an introvert. Maybe he’s super grumpy. Maybe he’s just not himself anymore.

“Oliver?” Barry says, emerging from the kitchen with a concerned frown. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Oliver says as Barry approaches him, “Just not a fan of small, crowded spaces.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, so he didn’t feel bad saying it.

“Oh,” Barry says, “Well, would you feel better if I went with you and we stood close to the exit? I could get you the eggnog and we’ll come back out and drink it,or-” 

Barry stops at the sight of Oliver smiling, as Felicity had so elegantly put it, “like he’s the sun on a beautiful day.” Oliver catches himself doing it (thank God Felicity promised not to bother him) and responds, “It’s not entirely necessary, but thanks, Barry.”

“So, is that a _thanks but no thanks thanks_ or a _yes I’ll go with you_ thanks?” Barry asks.

“It’s a _yes I’ll go with you thanks_ , Barry,” Oliver says with a fake, exaggerated sigh. Barry smiles in relief and-oh God, _oh God, he takes his hand_ -and leads him into the kitchen. He should feel like a baby, with Barry’s hand in his, with Barry’s unneeded worry over him. But he instead feels better, safer with Barry by his side. It’s almost laughable, he and Barry in their matching sweaters and joined hands, they must look like they’re dating.

Before Oliver can let that sink in, Barry says, “Be right back,” and walks off to get their eggnog. Oliver nods, and frowns once Barry is gone. Look what his friends made him do-now he can’t stop thinking about how he’s been acting around Barry. Does he always smile at Barry like he’s his one and only? When had he decided that holding hands with Barry was a pleasant experience that didn’t creep him out?

Barry returns, handing Oliver his glass and taking a sip from his own. For a moment, they just drink, watching everyone else from the entrance of the kitchen. There’s a collective groan from the crowd, followed by Cailin’s annoyed, “Cisco!”

Finally, Barry speaks up. “It’s nice. Having everyone over. Not to fight crime, or whatever, but just to have fun.”

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees, “It is.”

Barry looks over at him and smiles. “So, you glad you came over or what? Felicity said that she had to convince you because you had activated Arrow mode and was being a douche.” At Oliver’s confused face, he quickly exclaims, “Her words, not mine!”

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Oliver responds sarcastically, smiling stupidly when Barry laughs. “Seriously. I’m good. Thanks for inviting me.”

Barry smiles at the ground, and Oliver faintly wonders why their faces were permanently stuck that way. It feels as if Oliver has smiled (or has expressed some type of happiness) more today with Barry then in his entire life.

Oliver spends the rest of the party practically attached to Barry’s side. If Barry was irritated by his constant presence, then he did a great job hiding it. A part of his brain suggests that Barry wasn’t annoyed by Oliver, but he refuses to believe that could imply.  


 

So far, Oliver has visited Central City four times, and each time he spent most of his visit with Barry. He didn’t visit on Christmas Day, but only because Thea was home, and they spent the day exchanging gifts and working on New Years Resolutions. Then, he spent the next couple of days with Barry doing absolutely nothing-talking at his place, catching a movie (Christ, he has a _zombie movie scale_ ), and going out for coffee.

On the coffee date (for a lack of a better term) he overheard Barry talking to Iris once. “You’re blowing things out of proportion. He’s just a friend.”

“He seems to feel otherwise,” Iris responded.

Barry laughed- _actually laughed off_ the possibility of Oliver Queen having a crush on him. Oliver assumed that he would do the same if he was in Barry's shoes. He had to assume that-to prevent himself from feeling hurt.

“He’s my friend, Iris. Relax.”

_It’s true_ , Oliver told himself, _I am his friend. And that’s what I want._

Of course, he didn’t feel that way for long.

“So, what are you going to do with Barry today?” Diggle asks, watching Oliver distract himself by swinging around a staff. It’s either that or think about Barry, which is something that he finds himself doing way too often for his liking.

“Nothing,” Oliver spits.

“Do you even have any money left?” Diggle asks, “I mean, I know you’re a billionaire, but if you weren’t, all of the cab fare and money for food and-wait, does Barry use his super speed to pick you up and bring you to Central City?”

“Shut up, Diggle,” Oliver hisses.

“Just asking,” Diggle replies nonchalantly. 

There’s a silence that Oliver interprets as _Diggle is about to have one of those “go after him if you want him”_ speeches and he really isn’t in the mood for it. “Look, Diggle, I’m fine, okay? I am perfectly content with Barry being my friend. He himself has stated that we’re good friends. That’s it. We’re _happy_ , and that’s all that matters, right?”

Diggle flashes one of those _how dumb can you be_ smiles he likes to do whenever Oliver lies through his teeth about his feelings and shakes his head. “Yeah,” he says, “But you and I know both know that you two can be _happier_.”

With that he leaves, and Oliver lets him.  


 

“New Years is soon. Got any resolutions?” Barry pipes up. Jitters is mostly empty because it’s early evening, and closer to closing time. Still, Barry and Oliver sit, their coffee half empty, their bagels half eaten. Barry’s question is the first attempt at a conversation in a while. Well, Barry spoke a lot, but Oliver only answered with a nod, a shake of his head and occasional comment.

Oliver shrugs. “I don’t know. I told my sister Thea that I would stop being so distant. Which is kind of hard when the only thing you know how to do is be a broody vigilante.”

Barry mirrors Oliver’s sad smile. “Well, if it helps any, I resolved to move on with my life.” Oliver stares blankly at him. Barry has more of a life then Oliver has _ever_ had. What could that even mean? Barry answers Oliver’s unasked question. “I visited my dad in prison yesterday, after you left. He told me that I’ve been so consumed by my mother’s death that I haven’t been able to truly live, you know? So I’m going to live. I’m going to let Iris be happy with Eddie. I’m going to save people, I’m going to meet someone nice, and I’m going to _live_.”

Oliver smiles, one of the real, genuine smiles that he only gives to people that he cares about, to people that he loves. “That’s a nice resolution, Barry.”

“On a lighter note,” Barry adds, “I also resolve to never be late ever again.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Oliver responds, “You’ll be on time the day I actually start to use the name the Arrow Cave.”

“Which is pretty soon,” Barry responds, “And speaking of soon, I’m inviting you guys over for New Years. We’re gonna drink a little, watch the ball drop. I would love for you guys to come.”

Oliver tries to recall if this is what it’s like, falling in love (because yes, he is falling in love). He hasn’t done it in so long, and the last time he dated a guy was before the island. Of course, Barry isn’t Laurel, or Sara, or even Felicity. He isn't some guy he slept with for a few nights. Barry was new, Barry was different. He wants to cuddle with Barry, and buy Barry flowers, and take Barry out on stupid dates. He want to do everything with Barry, and then some.

Oliver doesn’t say any of this, he just says, “I’ll tell the team. Thank you Barry.” And he can’t stop himself from saying, “I-um, I’m really glad that-you’re a good friend, Barry.”

Barry’s smile is unreadable. But still, he says, “Thanks.”

“I’m going to do it, guys,” Oliver says later that day. He told them about the invitation and he figured that the new year, a time of looking back and starting over, would be the best time to make a move. “I’m going to tell Barry how I feel.”

Diggle and Felicity exchange proud smirks while Roy exclaims, “About time!”  


 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Barry says, staring at the champagne bottle in order to avoid looking at Oliver. “You came over a lot last week. Not that I didn’t like it, or that I was annoyed or anything. But I was worried. You seemed sad, and you visited me a lot. Why?”

Cool air blows through the open window in Barry’s room, sending shivers up both Barry and Oliver’s bodies. But they sat close together on the bed, and as cliche as it may sound, Barry’s warmth was all Oliver needed. Barry had led them away from the commotion in the living room when Oliver had told him that he needed to talk to him. It was a bit messy, but Oliver figures that it wasn’t as messy as what would happen to his life if Barry rejected him.

“I was sad, Barry,” Oliver answers, snatching the bottle from his hands. He was pretty sure that being a little buzzed would help his confession a lot more. And since Barry doesn’t plan on drinking tonight, because he can’t get drunk, Oliver decides to take a swig straight from the bottle. “I wanted to enjoy the holidays, but it was hard. My mother’s dead, Thea’s holding me at a distance. I have Diggle and Felicity and Roy, but it isn’t the same. I just feel so-alone.” He takes another drag from the bottle and spins it around, watching the champagne form a small tornado in the bottle. “And you made me feel _better_ , Barry.”

Silence, just like Oliver expected. So he goes on. “You are my friend, Barry. I care about you a lot. Diggle and Roy and Felicity-they told me that I had a _crush_ on you. And I didn’t believe them. Sure, I’m nicer around you, and happier around you. But I had never thought-not even for a _split second_ -that I would like you that way. It just seemed too absurd. Until the Christmas party, when we wore the same sweater, and you offered to help me, and you held my hand. That’s when I let myself wonder what being with you like that would mean.”

The silence is eating at Oliver’s insides, so he takes another long sip. “I hung out with you after. I saw movies with you, I drunk coffee with you. You told Iris that I was a friend, and she told you that I didn’t see you as a friend, that I saw you as something more.” He takes one last sip-he doesn’t want to get _too_ drunk-and continues. “I didn’t like that, Barry. I was mad at her for suggesting that I felt that way, but I was madder at you for denying it, for squashing any chance of our friendship progressing into something more. That was when I knew it. So I guess I can stop telling myself this and start telling you.”

He puts the champagne bottle down on the floor and turns to face Barry. His face is just as unreadable as it was when Oliver last saw him before New Years Eve, at Jitters, when Oliver was making one last ditch effort to convince Barry-and himself-that he loved him only platonically. _Say it, stupid,_ Oliver snaps to himself, and in a strong, steady, voice, he says, “I love you, Barry.”

Oliver is afraid that Barry will stay silent, just leave without a word. But instead, that bright smile that Oliver loves so much slowly appears on Barry’s face, followed by laughter. Laughter?

“Oliver, people tell me that my crush on Iris was the most obvious thing in the world. That’s because when you love someone you can’t have, or you _think_ you can’t, you get your fix by just watching them smile, or listening to their voice. You love them from afar. That was how I loved Iris for a long time, Oliver. But then, I realized something. Watching Iris smile, and listening to her laugh-it wasn’t the same anymore. I was starting to wonder why when it hit me, at Jitters, when you called me a ‘good friend.’ Oliver, I-” Barry is laughing again. “I was getting my fix from _you_. Your smile, and your laugh, that was what I wanted.”

It’s Oliver’s turn to laugh. “Well, I guess it’s a happy ending for _both_ of us then.”

“It’s almost midnight,” Barry says, “We should get back downstairs. Wouldn’t want to miss the ball drop.” Oliver wants to say something sappy, like _I’ll miss a thousand ball drops if I get to stare into your eyes forever_ , or something, but he just nods and lets Barry lead Oliver downstairs.

When they enter the living room, everyone is gathered around the television, getting ready to countdown. “There they are!” Iris exclaims when they take a seat on the couch. “Where were you two?” But the countdown begins either Barry or Oliver have a chance to answer.

_“Ten! Nine! Eight!”_

“Who’s gonna be your midnight kiss, Barry?” Oliver says, only loud enough for Barry to hear.

_“Five! Four!”_

“I think you know the answer to that question, Ollie,” Barry responds, just as low.

_“Two! One!”_ They watch the ball hit the ground, and the house erupts into cheers and exclamations of, “ _Happy New Year!_ ”

“Happy New Year, Oliver Queen,” Barry almost whispers, leaning in.

He gives Oliver just enough time to respond with, “Happy New Year, Barry Allen,” before planting a sweet, chaste kiss on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you so much for reading, it means a lot. Also, I would very much appreciate feedback, so leave some if you wanna. I'm patriculally worried if I wrote Oliver a bit OOC, so my apologies if I did.
> 
> Also, shamelessly promoting my Barry/Oliver mix on 8tracks called Partners, which you can listen to here at (https://8tracks.com/adeadlynightshade/partners). Thanks again, and happy holidays! :)


End file.
